


Out in the Cold

by firelord65



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Mission Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27983616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/firelord65
Summary: On a mission in the freezing woods of upstate New York, Clint has to save his boyfriend from almost certain death. Just another day in the office.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21
Collections: Mistletoe Exchange 2020





	Out in the Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [textbookchoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/textbookchoices/gifts).



Clint saw things better from a distance. That put him in a clear, predetermined position for each mission - away from the action with a scope to his eye.

This gave Clint an advantage, typically, in that he would walk away from most rollouts without the bruises, cuts, or occasional bullet holes that his boyfriend bore. There were always exceptions to this of course as theirs was a dangerous and unpredictable lifestyle. But in the majority and in the case of this particular early dawn, Clint was perched in a carefully positioned blind just upwind of the target location.

He was also freezing, thank you very much. Upstate New York in December wasn't as bad as Quebec in February, but it certainly wasn't enjoyable to say the least. Comparing his situation to that of the Barnes out in the field, Clint had definitely drawn the short straw. Barnes wasn't alternating which hand got to grip the heat pack in his coat pocket while his face froze from keeping watch through the cut out window in the blind. Then again, the previous Winter Soldier probably would have found the New York weather rather charming.

Clint took another draught of the coffee next to him. His thermos was dangerously empty. There was a hotplate plugged into the tiny solar-powered battery he could use to brew some more, but that wasn't exactly an option. With Barnes no longer within extraction distance, Clint wasn't going to spend five minute digging around for coffee, filters, and all that paraphernalia just for whatever expired, tasteless drip would come out. If Barnes was still on his snowmobile heading to the target location, well, then the coffee might have taken precedence.

As it was, Barnes had managed to infiltrate the outer stone walls of the manor with relative ease. There was a brief moment when his snowmobile had been spotted just before he was going to slip into one of the side wings. That had caused the white-clad guards to swarm out of the woodwork onto the unknown vehicle. Clint had put three arrows into the guard manning the large search beacons. When the light went out, the snowmobile was briefly forgotten and Barnes' path was cleared to slip in through one of the doors the guards had so thoughtfully left open.

That had been their last moment of communication with Barnes giving a mock salute with two fingers in the general direction of the blind. Clint finished picking off the rest of the now confused and exposed guards one at a time. Every time that one made their way to investigate the apparently malfunctioning light they were sent over the stone parapet in a puff of air and the twang of bowstring. It was something to do while he waited for Barnes to shed his snowsuit and make his way to the party in the upper floors.

"Why aren't they tagging someone less… identifiable for this? Someone like Tasha," Clint had asked when the assignment came down from Hill.

Barnes raised an eyebrow. "Less identifiable than one of the original Avengers? The one who was in multiple congressional hearings on TV?"

It was a fair point, but Clint wasn't about to roll over at the first pushback. "Two years ago. And hasn't been on Interpol's most wanted list," Clint shot back. Barnes had laughed at that and Clint had to amend his statement with "- _recently_."

Either way, Barnes was the one that they wanted so Barnes was the one to get sent inside with just Clint to watch his back. It was a simple intel mission. Barnes was going to rendezvous with another undercover agent, make the exchange, and get eyes on the arms dealer in question. No confrontation. No body count.

Clint panned his scope over the western courtyard. All the remaining white patrolling jackets had been… redirected off of the stone walls. Well, there was always some wiggle room over mission requirements.

There was a soft squawk, two chirps of feedback, on his earpiece. This was the signal from Barnes that he was in, finally. When Clint returned his attention to the warmly glowing windows through which the party was visible he carefully scanned for Barnes. He'd examined the crowd earlier and confirmed that their contact was present. It had been pretty difficult to miss the charming, charismatic man who didn't quite melt into the background of the rest of the partygoers. And Clint had a photo to compare to, which didn't hurt.

Barnes didn't have trouble finding him, either, appearing at the man's side within just a few minutes of circling the party floor. Clint frowned as he tried to discern words from lipreading, but the distance was excessive. The distance, however, was not so much to miss the way that their contact put his arm oh so casually over Barnes' shoulders. Nor did it obscure how he played off the handoff by pressing a kiss to Clint's boyfriend's lips as he dropped the USB stick into Barnes' suit coat pocket.

Now, Clint wasn't the kind of guy to get jealous. That clearly wasn't his bag. But there was something about how the contact _lingered_ still with Barnes at the bar with a smarmy, too-cool smile on his stupid face and a delicate martini glass at the hip. Clint was glad, actually, that he didn't need to pick out what they were saying to one another. Whatever was needed to maintain the ruse was fine. That was the job. See, there wasn't any jealousy issue at all.

As many undercover ops go, there was a tipping point sometime midway through the arms dealer's big show off moment. Clint spotted a new white coat and hat appear in the West courtyard only in the corner of his eye. By the time he dropped the spotting scope and brought his bow back up, the guard had a radio in hand. Clint let loose the arrow, grimacing as yet again the outside erupted into light and sound.

This time however it was not contained to the West courtyard. The commotion spread to the entire exterior and caused scrambling from the partygoers inside. Clint cursed under his breath when Barnes didn't respond to him over comms.

They had a backup plan; there always was one. Or two. Clint gripped his bow and slid out of the blind onto the smaller four wheeler that they had taken to get here. He landed with a thump and his grimace only deepened as the wintery air carried to him the sound of klaxon.

This was going swimmingly.

The four wheeler was more suited to travel over the packed snow of the trails they had taken to get here, not the untamed trails that Barnes had travelled to get to the rear of the manor. Still, Clint would make do. They had an agreed upon rendezvous point, but that had assumed that Barnes would be able to get back to his snowmobile. Clint chose to gun the four wheeler along the tracks Barnes had left and call that plan trashed for now.

"Clint?" His earpiece buzzed, just barely audible over the four wheeler's engine as it wheezed over a particularly steep rise. Clint slowed and cupped his hand over the device to try and hear better.

"Barnes?" he called in response.

"No, it's Santa Claus," Barnes snapped. "Yes, me."

Behind Barnes and over the engine turning under him Clint could hear the rat-tat-tat of suppressed gunfire. "You good?" he asked when Barnes swore suddenly. There was a long beat before there was a response.

"... Did you see the gondolas?" Barnes asked unprompted, ignoring Clint's question. Clint replied in the affirmative and pulled the four wheeler further East. He would have to break his own trail, but he had spent enough time with Barnes to know where this was going next. "Good. Can you follow the lines out? About three klicks. Then we'll drop."

"Drop?" Clint pressed and then when the rest of his words sank in he added, "We?"

Barnes cut out, his attention taken by the weapons fire and shouting that came across the line. Clint jerked the throttle on the four wheeler a little more viciously than intended when he heard an unfamiliar voice telling "James" to take cover. He told himself this was fine. This meant that Barnes had backup. This meant their contact was probably trustworthy. Clint's grit teeth didn't have anything to do with that damn kiss.

The four wheeler struggled over the drifts. The cold was even more unbearable while barreling headfirst into the wind. Still, Clint listened to Barnes and his companion's reckless escape through the manor and let that keep him distracted from the chill creeping from his extremities inwards.

"ETA?" Barnes barked at one point. Clint eyeballed the stretch of cables above him and realized the dark blob emerging from the manor was in fact the gondola. It was moving quicker than Clint, not burdened with skirting past trees, boulders, and overly prickly bushes that could penetrate tac pants with ease.

"Maybe five minutes? There was a creek in the way," Clint reported.

The not-quite-radio silence started again while more gunfire - this time no longer silenced - popped in his earpiece. Clint ignored the uncomfortable feeling in his gut as he could only listen to the ordeal. "Can he see us?" The question was nearly swept away with the wind, but not quite. Clint gritted his teeth as Barnes parroted the man's question to him now.

"Yes, I can see the gondola. In about a minute, minute-twenty you'll be right over me," Clint replied. He rode the four wheeler until he found the next clearing to give him a better view through the trees.

"Still got those remote charges?" Barnes asked. Clint shook his hands to coax the blood back into them and nodded before remembering that Barnes couldn't see him.

"Yep, loading now." Pulling out the explosive arrows from his quiver took slightly more concentration as his fingers didn't want to cooperate. Clint nocked the first one and held the second ready. He turned his head up to the cable car above. "I trust you have a plan for how you're coming down without killing yourself," Clint grunted.

"Most of one," Barnes replied. "Count it down?"

The challenge was hitting the connector between the gondola and the wire rather than just blowing up the car itself. Clint let loose the first arrow and grimaced when it went high. He had just moments to nock the next and adjust his aim. The gondola sped along merrily above him, not caring for the chaos contained inside. Clint could heard the soft, delayed echoes of the gunfire now, not just through the comms.

His second shot hit and Clint breathlessly rattled off "Three-two-one" in what was a countdown in name only before throwing himself into the brush and pressing the detonator. A second later he was able to bring his hands over his ears as the charges blew and the metal clamp was rent into pieces. Clint couldn't help but twist his head to watch as the gondola came careening downward from the sky.

Blooming from the back window was a wide, white parachute. There wasn't enough distance between the gondola's position and the ground, not to open properly, but it billowed and slowed the descent of a pair of bodies that emerged from the window. Clint didn't breathe until they tumbled into the snow about ten or so yards behind the wreck of the gondola. It was some small mercy that the timing had been off and the whole mess of metal and smoke hadn't landed directly on Clint or the four wheeler.

Throwing himself to his feet, Clint staggered over to the pair. He had dropped - or thrown - his bow during his sprint to the trees and now he had his pistol in hand as a final precaution. "Barnes?" he said stiffly.

There was some muffled talking or muttering being attempted in the snowdrift that the two had dropped into. Clint waited for the first figure to stand up and levelled his gun at them. He didn't want to trust that wisecracking smile that spread across their contact's face. Barnes was still disentangling himself from the chute. "Horrible service," he remarked smarmily.

Clint ignored him, warily putting his pistol back into its holster as he took Barnes' extended hand. "Up and at 'em," Clint said. As soon as he felt Barnes' hand wrap around his forearm and saw him - a little bruised, a little bloody, and yet still dashing in his black tie and white dress shirt - Clint drew him up against him.

Pulling Barnes in, Clint kissed him fiercely. This was relief, exasperation, and nerves all bundled into one kiss. And maybe a little bit of reclaiming his boyfriend. The kiss broke off slowly as Clint relaxed his grip on Barnes.

"Don't do that again," Clint warned.

Barnes chuckled, resting his forehead briefly on Clint's. "With a reaction like that? I just might."


End file.
